Azula Never Knows
by Always-Striving
Summary: And he can try all he wants, but she doesn't listen. She will never listen, and he will never reach her. Companion piece to Zuko Always Lies, but also works as a stand alone fic.


A/N: Oh, wow. It's been almost a year since I published Zuko Always Lies! Ah, the memories... So, several people have asked that I do a spin-off version of it, and I've basically been sitting around waiting for some fit of inspiration to hit me like it did for the last fic, since I wanted the spin-off to be just as good as the original. That, and I wasn't even sure if there would be a spin-off. That inspiration came to me earlier after my aforementioned-in-many-author's-notes sister and I had a big fight earlier today resulting in her throwing all three comics of _The Search_ trilogy at me (which happen to be mine), resulting in me being slightly injured but still feeling guilty over being the one to have (kinda officially) started it, and blah, blah, bah...

Basically, we got in a fight, I got guilty but was still mad, and decided to use that to my advantage to write this. I also gave her the rough draft to read, and then it got stupidly awkward when she didn't realize that it was an apology._ And,_ now I'm rambling. So, how about you just cut me off and -

* * *

He can never rid himself entirely of the guilt.

_"Not funny, Azula!_ You're_ sick."_ Argh. He was ten years old, and he was an idiot.

True, she was been absolutely _nasty_ and bone chilling, but she was - is - still _his sister._

It's his habit to blame their sire. Growing up with their father's crushing expectations, back then he was always jealous of Azula. Everything would always come _so easily_ to her, even when he worked three times as hard for it. _She_ was the one who'd always receive their father's coveted praise, and _he_ was the one who'd always receive his infamous scorn. No matter how hard he tried. Sometimes, in his darker moments, he can still hear himself shouting, _It isn't __fair!_ Then something tightens in his chest as it wells up with shame. He used to be so blindly envious; it's only in hindsight that he realizes how stupid he used to be. Who _cares_ who won their competitions, all those years ago? There is a price to pay for honor, but one for perfection, as well. He was always too caught up in his own sulking, but to lose your mind over something like _that..._

She sees their mother, and the vision never leaves... The doctors tell him some time after her admittance that a new hallucination has joined it in Azula's troubled mind: his. The thought makes him lie awake at night, teeth clenching, heart throbbing, and insides twisting and coiling into a cold, hard knot. He wonders what this - this _manifestation_ says in her head, what kinds of things he and their mother chorus. Are they twisted and infected by her illness, or are they some kind of unconscious truth?

She doesn't know he knows, or at least, he thinks she doesn't. She refuses to speak to him, to even _look_ at him. But he knows. He knows everything. He gets reports by the dozen each week, and he makes a point to read each and every one of them...something inside him never allows him not to.

The guilt suffocates him. It claws at his throat and sickens his belly.

_Could I have prevented this?_ He'd always known something was wrong with Azula. If he'd just watched and _paid attention,_ instead of dismissing her constantly as a heartless monster devoid of the capacity to _feel,_ could it...? _No._ He tells himself firmly. Not even his uncle had seen it coming. No one could have comprehended how _broken_ she truly was. Is. Has been all along. Not until it was already too late. But there's a tiny, mocking little voice - all barred teeth and bitterness - that hisses that's not true. He tries his best to ignore it.

_(It's your fault! All your fault, Zuzu!)  
_

He once heard that a man never truly remembers his greatest battles, mind having been too muddled by the need to survive at the time to take it in during the fight. That's what the Agni Kai was like. He remembered...being so _calm,_ as if he'd ascended some higher plane of existence and had been watching as an outsider, even as fire burned through his veins and surged from his limbs. It's all a daze of red skies and hellish infernos, but one thing he can't forget is her face. He vaguely recalled trying to ignore it, forcing himself to _focus,_ but he knows it will never leave him. Wan and glowing an almost deathly pale against her eerie blue; eyes wide with _fury,_ and _glee,_ and wild, wild _ecstasy_; teeth gleaming wide and ferocious - she was going for the kill. And succeeded. Almost.

Another thing he can't forget is her crying: loud, bawling wails that belonged more to an animal than the pristine, perfect princess...

"The princess," the doctors report, "has severe, debilitating reservations against trust, Fire Lord. She believes...that Your Majesty's attempts to speak to her are...grounded upon a facade. Of love."

That isn't true. It _isn't_. He - he _needs_ her to talk to him! If only to know - ...In truth, he's _terrified_ for her. But really, he can't _tell_ her that. He's going to _try_, but it won't work. As much as he's always fought _(there you go, Zuzu. Always, always, always...when are you going to really try?)_ against the odds, he knows it won't work. Because she - with her torturous black-and-white views of the world - will never listen.

She will never listen, and he will never reach her.

* * *

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and tell me what you thought, because I'd really, really appreciate it if this story got as much good reception as the Azula counterpart (and also check out my other stories!)

Feel free to tell me if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes, as per usual. I'm sure there are tons.

Thanks for everything, guys. Really.


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